


more of you, less of me

by spills



Series: Like-Like and Not-Love [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, PJO!AU, someone is getting their heart broken, son of eros!motoya, son of hermes!osamu, try guessing who!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spills/pseuds/spills
Summary: "Isn’t love supposed to make you happy?""If you’re lucky, it does."
Relationships: Komori Motoya/Miya Osamu
Series: Like-Like and Not-Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859686
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	more of you, less of me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eclipsed (lucitae)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/gifts).



> first mention: the au spawned from [kuro](https://twitter.com/shokurensei/status/1288033046348750848) and honestly??  
> if u like rarepairs, some food here, and some more food in the future

_How are you sure that you’re in love with me?_

By the third date, Motoya always finds himself asking this question to each new love he ends up stumbling upon. Stumbles upon them, because others tend to be the ones confessing first, and Motoya, upon being confessed to, allows himself to fall in love with the confessor. 

After all, courage is something that should be rewarded, right? 

Loving someone requires time and dedication, similar to how Kiyoomi is still learning how to nurture his flowers so they don’t overgrow, and end up consuming the entirety of Kita’s garden. Too much passion causes one to burn out, and Motoya is much too familiar with passion, feelings that last in the heat of the moment. Yet, he finds himself asking this question, over and over again, praying to his father, praying to Aphrodite, that one day, he may be proven wrong. 

_You make my heart race_ , is what one girl had said, and that’s how Motoya knew it wasn’t love. 

_I need you, you’re so. So addictive to be around,_ is another thing said by a different boy (the first boy), and Motoya knew that wasn’t love either. 

Desire in all these glances, heated, reflecting Motoya’s appearance in each date’s irises. The pupils of past boyfriends and girlfriends would always be dilated with ardour and little to no _amore_. All passion that could be mistaken as love, and each of them would mistake infatuation as love and Motoya, holding their hands by the campfire as he knew by the next week it would probably be someone new. 

Someone new to fall in love with him, and to be loved by so many was a blessing, when all Motoya wanted was for someone to stay. He knows that he shouldn’t consider blessings to be a curse, but under the stars and the other party’s face illuminated by the campfire, Motoya allowed himself to pretend that maybe, this one would fall in love with him for _him_. 

_Motoya, Motoya,_ his father had sung his name in a dream one night, before asking him this: _How long are you going to let your heart bleed like this?_

It was the year he had turned 17. Motoya knew that he was one of the luckier ones, regarding parental relationships. His mother loved him, his step-father was good to him, and Zephyros was always hovering over his shoulders as he grew up. So he knows he shouldn’t be ungrateful when Eros shows up one night in his dreams, reclining on a plush velvet phone couch, a bowl of grapes by his side. 

The colour of his father’s sclera was a deep red, akin to fresh blood, and Motoya wonders if that was just how human blood was supposed to look like, compared to the gold ichor that his immortal father bleeds instead. 

Is it the difference in their mortality that makes a difference? 

Is it because Eros is immortal that his passion and love is eternal? And because Motoya is only one-half love, that all passion and adoration for him wanes with the human lifespan? 

_Isn’t love supposed to make you happy?_ He had asked Zephyros once as a child, and Zephyros, too kind to offer a lie, had answered him this: _If you’re lucky, it does._

So Motoya considers luck, while his father had studied him with a cool gaze. Clicked his tongue in admonishment and shook his head. _Why don’t you toy with them, the way they toy with you?_ Eros had sunk his teeth into a grape, viciously, _You are no son of Aphrodite. You’re my son,_ and if Motoya didn’t know his father well, maybe he would have mistaken the tone in the latter sentence for possessiveness. But because he was his father’s son, Motoya could only smile crookedly, as Eros had cracked a grape seed between his teeth, _Love is fleeting, like passion,"_ and had flicked his candy apple red eyes towards Motoya, his lip curled up into a sneer, _that’s who you’re meant to be._

The problem with Greek mythology was that it liked predetermined fate a little too much, and it was unfortunate that Motoya is part Ancient Greek. It was also very unfortunate that Motoya is human too, and had cravings like real people do. 

He’s human, and while love, fleeting, could be appealing, he wants to know what it would mean to have someone stay with him for _him_. The human bits of him, the parts of him that has his mother’s eyes and smile. 

_A love that stays,_ and it’s also very unfortunate that his father is a Love God capable of reading his thoughts. 

Motoya doesn’t miss how his father’s eyes narrow at him, before getting up from his position. Twists open a new bottle of wine, and pours himself a glass. Eros doesn’t bother looking at his son when he shakes his head, his pretty lips parted on his handsome face, giving sound to a cruel laugh. _Continue to get hurt then._

Eros swirls the wine in glass, once, twice, before taking a sip. Turns his head to face Motoya. His expression disinterested when he poses another question. _Dear son of mine, how long are you going to allow others to break your heart?_

 _As many times as they need it, I guess,_ Motoya had remembered shrugging, feeling almost indignant at his father’s apathy, but was also wise enough to know that nothing good ever came out of fighting Love. 

He supposes right now, his father with his romantic omniscience, must be laughing at him from his palace in the sky, as before him is Miya Osamu from the Hermes Cabin. The feelings that radiate off from the other boy is so intense that Motoya finds himself dizzy from it. It wasn't supposed to end up like this - what he had with Osamu was meant to be fleeting.

That one day, Osamu would wake up and realize that he _wasn't_ in love with Motoya, then proceed to move on with his life. 

“I love ya,” Osamu’s face is so red, but his voice is firm, steady, and Motoya feels cornered despite the door to his own cabin right behind him, trying to find the right words that don’t include the phrase _I like you too._ Eros’ son closes his eyes, steadies his breathing before looking up, maintains eye contact even though all his head wants is to yell _I like you too! I liked spending this summer and every summer before with you! I liked getting to know you too!_ _I think I could be in lo-_

“No,” baby steps in forming a coherent sentence, “You don’t love me,” Motoya continues, finds his laughter, and shrugs his shoulders helplessly, “You’re infatuated, Osamu,” he tells the other boy kindly, watches the boy’s brows knit together, “I’m a son of Eros,” and the son of Eros clasps his hands behind his back, “You’re infatuated with me.”

“Look, Motoya-” 

Motoya shakes his head, and continues to speak. “Don’t get me wrong, infatuation is a sort of love too, really, really passionate. And I’m-” Motoya averts his gaze, hands reaching for the doorknob of his cabin, “Just a child of passionate love. What you’re feeling is passion for the time we’ve spent together,” twists the door open, and steps back into the cabin, “Passion is fleeting. Don’t worry, it’ll fade, and we’ll be back to being friends soon enough.”

For once, Motoya shuts the door in front of someone who has just confessed to him, even though this is the second time Osamu has confessed to him, feelings that have grown stronger ever since the first time. The first time wasn't even a confession, just the implication of one. 

He sinks to his knees, and buries his face in his hands, because this time, the rejection was for him to protect himself. A cowardly move, and he knows that Eros is going to be displeased with him, and maybe, he should have told his father that he’ll let others chip away at his heart, bit by bit, but he’ll draw the line, when he’s the one who had fallen in love first.

He can be allowed small mercies, right? 

A tap on the door behind him. Another two taps, and there’s a pause of silence in the air before Osamu clears his throat. 

“Motoya,” Osamu sighs his name softly, “I love ya. A lot. Just as much as rice,” a moment of consideration before he gives another, “Okay, maybe even more than rice. But anyway, just… give me a bit of time. And I’ll prove it to ya. I love ya, and I promise, it’s not something that's just gonna pass by.” 

Another moment’s worth of silence, and Motoya hears the sound of footsteps leaving before curling into himself even tighter. 

He closes his eyes, and whispers a prayer to his father, prays that even if love fails - crashes and burns - Motoya will still be able to have Osamu as a friend. 

**Author's Note:**

> accidentally ended up with another fic for motoya! he's such a lovely boy, a great muse  
> my brain is shot out though hence we are left with this sort of ending 
> 
> also thank u again [kuro](https://twitter.com/shokurensei) for beta-ing my heart is full, big dokis for you
> 
> and! come find me on [tweeter](https://twitter.com/RainElsewhere)


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